


Whirlwind of Carefully Controlled Color

by BuzzCat



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: (which is a tag AO3 recognizes??), AKA how many nailpolish puns can I make?, Ford Pines and Mabel Pines Bonding, Gen, Nibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-11-02 09:18:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20697101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuzzCat/pseuds/BuzzCat
Summary: “I was thinking we should do a project together and I need some help.”“Help with what?” Ford frowned. Had she been assigned physics homework over the summer?Mabel looked up at him as the door opened into the main lab area and she led the way up the stairs three at a time, bursting out from behind the vending machine and striking a dramatic pose for no one in particular.“Help with FASHION!”Waddles looked up at her from a patch of sunshine and oinked in acknowledgement of her presence.Ford stopped on the last step out of the basement. “Mabel, I think—”“Not help creating fashion. Your fashion sense isn’t a cause worth saving, at this point.”**Mabel and Ford paint nails and bond





	Whirlwind of Carefully Controlled Color

Ford was not sulking. Not sulking and not brooding whatsoever. He was just…working. In the basement. In the dark. Alone. Staring at his worktable and doing nothing for hours.

In theory, he was supposed to be organizing the room. He had dismantled the portal a few weeks ago, but the scrap was still around, vaguely sorted into piles of reusable and trash. His hands were covered in little cuts and scrapes from the debris, and Ford drummed his fingers on the tabletop, watching the shadows play around his knuckles. _If I had five fingers, the world would have been very different_, he mused to himself._ Or at least, less likely to end at any given moment._

“Grunkle Ford!” Ford spun around, surprised to see Mabel exiting the elevator. He frowned, stepping forward into the observation chamber to stop her from entering the lab proper.

“Mabel, it’s dangerous down here. Let’s go back upstairs.”

Mabel frowned up at him as he started chivvying her toward the elevator, “But you and Dipper played down here yesterday?” Ford couldn’t deny that; there was Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons paraphernalia scattered around the room.

“Yes, but I’m done for the day anyway.” That much was mostly true. In truth, he didn’t want Mabel in the basement for far more simple reasons. Dipper was a reasonable child, easily understanding and respectful of the instruments in the basement. He was careful. But Mabel…Mabel tended to be more of a whirlwind. More movement, louder, less careful. The laboratory wasn’t made for any of those particular characteristics.

“Oh good!” Mabel said, startling Ford out of his reverie. “I was thinking we should do a project together and I need some help.”

“Help with what?” Had she been assigned physics homework over the summer?

Mabel looked up at him as the door opened into the main lab area and she led the way up the stairs three at a time, bursting out from behind the vending machine and striking a dramatic pose for no one in particular.

“Help with FASHION!”

Waddles looked up at her from a patch of sunshine and oinked in acknowledgement of her presence.

Ford stopped on the last step out of the basement. “Mabel, I think—”

“Not help creating fashion. Your fashion sense isn’t a cause worth saving, at this point.” Ford decided she had a fair point, as he owned approximately three sweaters and had been wearing the same coat for almost fifteen years. “I need help executing fashion. Specifically, I need help with these.” Mabel pulled at least four bottles of nail polish from seeming nowhere, each more neon and glittery than the last.

“Help with…those?”

“I need help painting. Wendy’s gone, Dipper tends to get distracted halfway through, and Stan keeps insisting that seeing that much glitter up close gives him cataracts.”

“It does!” Stan shouted from the living room. Mabel rolled her eyes affectionately and shouted back to him,

“Adaptation is the key to survival, Grunkle Stan.”

Ford hear Stan mumble something about agreeing to disagree, but he grinned at his great-niece.

“I’d be delighted to help you with your nails.”

Dipper walked through, notebook in hand. Without even looking up, he stated. “She’s going to paint your nails.”

“Dipper!” Mable said, “Don’t spoil my scheme!”

“I’ve had my nails painted before,” Ford said with a shrug. Mabel looked up at him, a newfound respect in her eyes. Ford elaborated, “In a variety of cultures, personal adornment was necessary as a way of communicating social status as well as clan affiliations. Nail polish was easier than tattoos.” And after a very particular tattoo had appeared from a particularly well-meaning Ashtokoschen, Ford had decided painting his fingernails was the top priority when entering a society based on personal adornment.

Mabel turned to look at Dipper, “See? Nail polish helps science!”

Dipper eyed her skeptically.

Ford clarified, “It assists in anthropological study.”

“Nail polish helps science,” Mabel repeated wisely. Dipper smiled and shook his head, heading out the front door.

“Just try to keep the glitter radius to a minimum. I’m tired of my teeth sparkling whenever I use a fork.”

“No promises!” Mabel shouted as the door closed behind her brother. She excited sat down at the table, placing her hands on the table, practically wiggling in anticipation. Ford smiled at her antics, sitting down beside her and eying the polish she’d put on the table.

“So which color are you using today?”

“Duh, Grunkle Ford, all of the them!”

He raised an eyebrow, picking up the polishes. “You’re going to pair ‘Back to the Fuchsia’ with—“ he lifted another bottle, squinting at the name on the bottom, “—‘Blood of My Enemies’?”

“Typically I’d pair ‘Blood of My Enemies’ with ‘Reflect Light Like a Rhinestone’, but I ran out last week. ‘Back to the Fuchsia’ brings the right level of whimsy.”

Ford couldn’t disagree. He picked up a green bottle that seemed to glow vaguely, examining it carefully. There was no obvious brand or name on the bottle, making almost mundane were it not also the most painful shade of lurid green Ford had seen and the way it shimmered almost menacingly. “Mabel, what’s—”

“Hush money from the vegetarian kelpie. She doesn’t want the gnomes to know I’ve been sneaking her Chipackers. They only leave her alone because she keeps threatening to eat them. But look at this Grunkle Ford!” She plucked the green bottle from his hands, shaking it. The vague glow started pulsating and Ford thought he could hear some kind of electric tone keeping beat with the pulsing light. “It’s my own portable rave!”

Ford blinked at it. He didn’t even know Gravity Falls had a kelpie. He picked up ‘Void Essence’ and shook it idly, trying to stir up the gold glitter that had settled in the bottom.

“You’ve got twelve colors here. Which ones do you want to use?”

“Hm,” Mabel eyed her collection critically. She put two colors next to each other, then arranged a few in a triad before letting out an exasperated, “Blargh! There’s too many good combinations. I need to see what they look like, how the coats layer and their glitter content before I can choose. And wow, would you look at that, twelve colors!” Her eyes slid to Ford, who suddenly got the distinct impression he’d been had.

Stan barked out a laugh from the living room but said nothing else on the subject.

Ford tried not to smile, but he couldn’t help it. “You may paint my nails if you wish.”

“Why Grunkle Ford, I’d never ask that of you!” Mabel said as she uncapped ‘Reality is an Illusion’, a holographic silver. She grinned at him, “But since you offered…”

Ford spread his twelve fingers on the table.

“Now tell me about this kelpie. Freshwater?”

“Of course. But the real is dirt is on the saltwater kelpies—” And Mabel launched into a full breakdown of the intergroup politics of the saltwater kelpies, including the scandals of the royal family for the last fifty years. Ford listened intently, fascinated. He’d never truly considered the culture of the creatures in Gravity Falls. They’d all been so interesting from a scientific perspective, he hadn’t bothered to take an anthropological perspective on them until going through the portal and it had become a game of adapt or die. But Mabel had ingratiated herself with a kelpie, of all animals, and even deigned to paint his thumb with the glowing green polish.

Ford was so entranced by her story that when she declared his nails done, he was surprised to look down and find each nail perfectly painted a different color. He brought them closer to his eye for inspection. Sure enough, the glitter content in each blinded him momentarily, but they were painted perfectly. No polish on the skin, no bits of nail showing through, no uneven coats or unintentional texture.

“Mabel, this is very well-done painting.”

“Thank you! I learned by doing it very badly multiple times.”

Ford didn’t think he’d even seen her take such care with anything. Mabel was such an animated storyteller, he’d almost been expecting to come away with more polish on his wrist than on his nails. But they were perfect.

He was pulled from his inspection when Mabel spread her fingers on the table. “Okay, now do mine. Thumb in ‘Void Essence’, pointer in ‘Sacre Bleu’, middle in ‘Phenomenal Cosmic Power’—no not that one, it’s the one with the pink swirls—ring finger in ‘Blood of My Enemies’, and pinky in ‘Kerprank’d!’.”

Ford eyed her skeptically as he added ‘Kerprank’d!’ to the lineup, an aggressively bright purple. Mabel looked at her selection and nodded.

As Ford uncapped ‘Void Essence’ and started painting in steady strokes, he realized that Mabel absolutely did not need his help with this. He’d seen how she did his nails; her lines were perfect. He had no doubt she’d done her own nails hundreds of times. But she’d asked him for help. Strange.

Mabel lifted her painted hand and blew across the nails, checking out his work.

“Very nice, Grunkle Ford. You even got the glitter even across the whole nail!”

Ford smiled at her approval, before he realized with a jolt this was the first time he’d really spent time with Mabel. He and Dipper had been playing Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons every day, and somehow this was the first time he’d talked one-on-one with Mabel. Instantly, he felt guilty about the rather obvious oversight.

As Ford swiped the last of ‘Gar-Feeling It’—orange with flecks of black in it—over Mabel’s thumb nail on her other hand, he put the polish away, sitting back to admire his handiwork. It wasn’t as perfect as Mabel’s, but perfectly serviceable for being stuck in another dimension.

Mabel blew across her nails, wiggling them to watch how they light caught the paint.

“Perfect. Thank you Grunkle Ford!” She went for a hug, then stopped at her wet nails. She settled for patting him on the arm before hopping off the chair and shouting, “Grunkle Stan, I’m going to drive the golf cart to dry my nails!”

“Make good choices sweetie!” Stan called from the living room, not looking up from his ‘Gold Chains for Old Men’ issue.

Mabel headed for the door but before she left, Ford spoke up. “Mabel, if you want to, you’re welcome to come down to the lab with Dipper tomorrow. Perhaps the three of us could play a game and paint Dipper’s nails.”

Mabel grinned at him, braces shining. “Thanks, Grunkle Ford!”

As she ran out the door, swiped golf cart keys in hand, Ford examined his perfectly painted nails. Quite an enlightening afternoon indeed.


End file.
